


Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not?

by Jazznsmoke



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rewrite, Still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazznsmoke/pseuds/Jazznsmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if there were a few slight changes to Still? <br/>3 shot. <br/>Read and review.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my Bethyl chat loves for convincing me to post this first chapter sooner than I had planned. (Really you could consider it bullying what with the chanting of 'post it, post it, post it,' over and over again, during the chat last night.) I appreciate it. And special thanks to Texasbelle91 for bouncing ideas back and forth with me and listening to me be a diva about this story. Thank you all!

**Beth POV**

Daryl and I took off. That grandfather clock going off brought a ton of walkers towards us. We stopped dead in our tracks and when Daryl nudged me, telling me to move, I did. We ran into this room and I was almost out of it when Daryl stopped, and turned around waiting for them to follow us in, with his crossbow raised. He shot the first one in the head, a grim look on his face and maybe a little bit of resignation to the look as well. The second walker got to him, and he shoved it backwards with his bow, letting the walker grab his bow from him as the nasty thing hit the wall and slid down it some. In the time it took the walker to regain it’s footing Daryl grabbed a golf club, using it to knock the brains out of the walker’s head in one shot, and with the momentum he knocked the next one to the ground. The club got stuck in its head, I think, and he managed to break it in two. He swung back around and stabbed the next walker in the head with it, and kicked another one down onto its butt. Then he was stabbing the last one that came into the room in its eye with his knife. The walker he knocked down stood itself up and Daryl had a new golf club in his hands, all of a sudden. He swung it over and over again, hitting the thing in its shoulders and chest, knocking it to the floor again. He kept hitting it, over and over again, in the shoulders and head but not actually dealing that final killing blow. I watched him, stunned, scared and from a little ways away, flash light trained on him, as he beat the thing. The skull kind of caved in, I guess, as he beat it and a big chunk of it went flying across the room and splattered across my chest, all over the shirt and cardigan I had picked up from the shop. 

I don’t know. Maybe he needed to beat something, cause when the skull gave out and he looked up at me he looked calm, except for his heavy breathing. We stared at each other for a few moments before I looked down and took off the cardigan, making my way towards my end game. I stopped being grossed out by walker blood and guts when we left my farm and were on the road. 

I stood in that hallways looking at the bar, not even sure if Daryl followed me in and said, “We made it.” I turned around, kind of hoping that he had followed me. “I know you think this is stupid. And it probably is, but I don’t care. All I wanted to do today was lay down and cry. But we don’t get to do that. So, beat up on walkers if that makes you feel better. I need to do this.” He didn’t say anything as I turned around and walked the distance into the room, flashlight bouncing across the walls as I look around. I paused for a second at the two bodies entwined on the floor, sending a silent prayer that they rest in peace and find solitude wherever their spirits end up. Then, I edged around them and went behind the counter looking at the few bottles left behind. I picked up the only bottle with anything in it, reading the label as Daryl took his crossbow and broke the glass on a picture frame still on the wall. “Did you have to break the glass?” I asked as I stepped back over the bodies. 

“No,” His voice sounded extra gravelly and like he hasn’t spoken in days. Which, he kind of hasn’t, he’s barely spoken, neither one of us has said much since the prison. He folded up the paper and I kept reading the bottle as I moved to sit at the bar, “Have you had your drink yet?” 

“No, but I found this,” I turned to look at him for a second before setting the bottle on the counter and sitting down. “Peach Schnapps, is it good?” 

“No,” 

“Well, it’s the only thing left.” I started looking at the cups surrounding me at the bar, all filled with nasty liquid and gunk while he wandered around the room. I started tapping my fingers on the bar nervously, giving up on finding a clean glass, “Who needs a clean glass,” I mumbled. Daryl started throwing darts at a picture frame filled with businessmen, probably the clubs presidents or something. I took one last look over at him, throwing darts, the muscles in his arms rippling as he pulled his arm back and threw a dart, hitting the top picture right in the guys chin. It took me a moment to pull my eyes away from his arms. I’ve always liked his arms. They’re all tan and in this light they’re kind of shiny, showing off each individual muscle, it helps that his vest and cut off shirt accent the coloring of his arms. 

I’m not like my friends, the ones from before the world ended. I’ve never gotten drunk. I’ve never made out with anyone cause I was drunk or anything like that. I sat there with the bottle in my hands, peeling the label while thinking and fighting back tears, not doing a very good job of it. I’m never going to get those experiences that I missed out on before. I’m never going to get those drunken experiences. It’s just me and Daryl. He’d never make out with me drunk or anything like that. I’m never going to get that regret. 

I let out a sob and looked up at Daryl as he stood in front of me, taking the bottle, staring at me for a second before turning around and throwing it against the floor, shattering it. He took a step forward, half turning to look at me. “Ain’t gonna have your first drink be no Peach Schnapps.” It took me a second before I registered what he said. He made it to the door way, opening the door and watched me, waiting for me to get up and follow him, “Come on,” Motioning towards the door with his head. I wiped away my tears and stood up, following him out.   
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
“A motorcycle mechanic,” 

“Huh?”

“That’s my guess. For what you were doing before the turn. Did Zach ever guess that one?” I walked a little faster to walk next to him instead of behind him as we walked through the woods, wanting to see his face and reaction to my guess and explanation. 

“Don’t matter. It hasn’t mattered for a long time.”

“It’s just…what people talk about, you know? To feel normal.”

“Yeah, well, never felt normal to me.” 

I gave up trying to talk to him and just followed along to where ever he was taking us now. He led us out into a little ‘clearing’ with a ramshackle cabin in it. “Found this place with Michonne.”

“I was expecting a liquor store.”

“Nah, even better.” He led me around back of the place, checking inside the broken windows for any signs of people or walkers before opening the door to the little shed attached to the place. He stepped inside and grabbed a couple of jars. 

“What’s that?” 

He started putting them in a crate before handing them to me and saying “Moonshine, come along.” He headed inside, his crossbow at the ready and I walked a few steps behind him with the crate of moonshine in my arms. He checked that there wasn’t anyone hiding behind the one door in the place and I set the crate on the table. When he finished his sweep he went straight to the cupboard above the table and grabbed out a cup. He grunted as he opened the Mason jar, “Alright,” and poured some of the clear liquid into the cup. “That’s a real first drink right there.” He stood up, looking kind of proud of himself as he set the Mason jar back down. 

I looked down into the centimeter of clear liquid for a moment after he set the glass in front of me. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’.” How do I explain to him what’s going on inside of my head right now? I doubt he’ll get it. “It’s just…my dad always said bad moonshine could make you go blind.” 

“Ain’t nothin’ worth seeing out there anymore, anyway.” 

He has a point. I lifted the cup, hesitating before letting the liquid hit my lips. I could feel the moonshine running down my throat, harsh and disgusting and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I know I made a disgusted face. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted,” I finished my statement and took another little sip and then drained the last bit in the cup in one go. “Heh. Second round is better.” I smiled up at Daryl, hovering in front of me while I reached for the jar to refill the cup.

“Well, slow down.”

“This one’s for you.” 

I started pouring as he lifted his hand into the air before letting it fall back to his side. “Nah, I’m good,” 

“Why?”

“Someone’s got to keep watch.” 

“So what, your like my chaperone now?”

He started pacing back and forth before walking past me and saying “Nah. Just drink lots of water.” 

“Yes, Mr. Dixon,”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
He started nailing blankets and wood pieces over the windows while I looked around on the floor at objects that may or may not be useful for us. I knelt next to the recliner and picked up this big, pink bra shaped ashtray and started laughing a little, “Who would go into a store and walk out with this?” This thing is atrocious.

He didn’t even turn around and look before he started to say, “My dad, that’s who.” He turned around and had this really cute look on his face, like he’s slightly amused and slightly annoyed all at once and he can’t decide which one he’s supposed to be. “Aw, his dumb-ass, pfft. He’d set those up on top of the TV set, use them as target practice.”

“He shot things inside your house?” 

“It was just a bunch of junk anyway. That’s how I knew what this place was. That shed out there? My dad had a place just like this. You had your dumpster chair, that’s for sitting in your drawers all summer drinkin’. You got your fancy buckets, those are for spittin’ chaw in after your old lady tells you ta stop smokin’.” He stopped talking long enough, looking around before reaching over and grabbing an old newspaper, “You got your internet,” and throwing it on the floor when he was done using it as an example. 

He motioned for me to stay put and to be quiet, leaning to see out the window when we started hearing growling from outside. 

“Eh, it’s just one of ‘em.” 

“Should we get it?” He started pacing a little bit, towards me once and started back towards the window. 

“If it starts making too much noise, yeah.” 

“Well, if we’re going to be trapped again we may as well make the best of it.” I picked up a Mason jar and looked up at him, hoping he’d agree to drink with me. I smiled to myself and held the jar out to him, “Unless you’re too busy chaperoning, Mr. Dixon.” I hoped the gentle taunt would work in my favor. 

“Hell, may as well make the best of it,” I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as he took a jar from me and sat in the ugly as heck camouflaged patterned recliner. “Home sweet home.” 

 

Thinking about all of those things I’ll never get to do, earlier today, at the golf club, made me think of a game my friends used to play. I Never. Maybe we can learn stuff about each other. Maybe Daryl will take it upon himself to help me accomplish some of the things I never got to do. 

I started explaining the rules to him, it boggles my mind he’s never heard of it or played it. 

“I ain’t never needed a game to get lit before,” 

“Wait, are we starting?” 

He pointed at me, “How do ya know this game?” 

“My friends played it.” He doesn’t need to know I sat around watching them, wishing I was playing it too. I told him I’d start. “I’ve never…Shot a crossbow.” 

“Ain’t much of a game.” 

“That was a warm up!” 

He took a drink and I reminded him it’s his turn. He tried to tell me he doesn’t have an ‘I Never’. I told him to say the first thing that pops into his head. 

His was pretty good. “I’ve never been outta Georgia.” I didn’t expect that.

“I’ve never…been drunk and did something I regret.” 

He took a huge gulp of his moonshine and set it down before saying, “I done a lot of things.” 

His turn passed and my turn came again. I said the first thing that popped into my head. “I’ve never been in jail. I mean, as a prisoner.” 

“Is that what you think of me?” 

“I-I didn’t mean anything serious. I just thought…you know…like the drunk tank…Even my dad got locked up for that back in the day.” I started rambling, trying to back track. I didn’t mean anything like what he thought I meant. 

“Drink up.” 

I made another guess about what he was before the turn. A prison guard, but he said no. It’s probably weird that I keep playing the game that my dead boyfriend started playing to pass the time. It’s probably weird to play this game when I can’t keep my eyes off Daryl Dixon’s lips. He stood up all of a sudden, announcing he has to take a piss I didn’t look up until he kicked something and it shattered. 

“Daryl, you have to be quiet.” 

“I can’t hear ya, I’m takin’ a piss.” His voice grew louder while he undid his belt, the buckle clanging really loudly. I tried to tell him, again, to quiet down. “What’re you my chaperone now?” He looked over his shoulder at me while he kept peeing. What do I say to that? What do I say to this? “Oh wait, it’s my turn, right? I never, uh, eaten frozen yogurt, never had a pet pony. Never got nothin’ from Santa Claus.” His last words punctuated by hitting a chair and knocking it half over. “Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I’ve never relied on anyone for anything.”

I tried to cut in, cut him off, but he bulldozed right over me. His words cutting into me. I feel like a deer caught in headlights. “…Like every thing was fun, like everything was a big game. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention.” 

He got caught off by the walker from earlier, the one we left alone, trying to beat open the door and come inside to get a free meal. He grabbed my arm, pulling me up and reminding me of my I Never shot a crossbow, saying he was going to teach me. Spouting it’d be fun. I felt myself start panicking a little. This side of Daryl, this side I’ve never seen before, heck I’ve heard about it from the others, but I haven’t ever seen it before, scares me. It’s like he’s fighting against me, the world, everything, pushing it all away before it can get close to him in any way. I tried pleading with him as he dragged me outside. He let go of me long enough to put a bolt into the walkers shoulder and pin it to the tree before pulling me in front of him, my back flush against his front, letting off another bolt, before releasing me again and restringing it. He pulled me against him again and shot it again.

“Just kill it!” I wanted to beg him, to yell at him, anything for him to stop. He wanted to pull the arrows out and do some more ‘target practice’. He started forward, heading towards the walker and I pulled out my knife and got to the walker right before Daryl did, stabbing it and ending it’s second life. 

“What the hell’d ya do that for? We was havin’ fun!” 

“No, you were being a jack ass! If anyone’d found my dad,” 

“Don’t. That ain’t remotely the same,” 

“Killing them isn’t supposed to be fun,” Suddenly we’re in each others faces.

“What d’ya want from me, girl? Huh?”

“I want you to stop acting like you don’t give a crap about anything, like nothing we went through matters, like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It’s bullshit!”

“Is that what you think?” 

I swear, in that moment, I felt his emotions, felt everything he was feeling in that one second. Like it was the opposite of everything I’d just said. “It’s what I know,” I practically spat the words at him. 

“You don’t know nothin’.” 

“I know you look at me an’ you just see another dead girl.” I wiped away a piece of hair, angry at it, at everything now. “I’m not Michonne, I’m not Carol, I’m not Maggie. I survived and you don’t get it cause I’m not like you or them. But I made it.”

He started to walk away, but then he turned around getting closer to me then ever before.   
”And you don’t get to treat me like crap just cause your afraid,”

“I ain’t afraid of nothin’.” We stood there, looking straight into each other’s eyes for a moment. His eyes filled with emotions that I can’t even begin to describe, his lips parted slightly, and that one lock of hair curling into his eye. 

I took in all those little details and I took that step forward. I didn’t think as I moved. I closed the small distance between us and my lips met his, cutting him off before he could say anything else. I didn’t wait, I moved my lips against his, and he responded, kissing me back. I traced my tongue across his lips, and his response was immediate, his tongue meeting mine. We broke apart, foreheads touching for a second before he pulled back. I expected him to start yelling at me, or to run off but he reached up and tucked a piece of hair back behind my ear, with a shocked expression. 

We stared at each other for a few moments again. “I remember.” I took a step back from him. “When that little girl came out of the barn, after my mom. You were like me. And now God forbid you let anyone get too close,” 

“Too close, huh? You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends and you can’t even shed a tear. Your whole family is gone and all you can do is go out and look for hooch like a dumb college bitch,” 

“Screw you, you don’t get it.”

“No, you don’t get it! Everyone we know is dead!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Might as well be. You ain’t ever going to see them again. Rick. You ain’t ever gonna see Maggie again.” 

“Daryl, just-“

“No,” I tried to grab his arm and make him look at me. 

“Stop,” He pulled away from me, taking a few steps and looking at the walker stuck to the tree. “The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I, woudn’ta stopped looking. Maybe cause I gave up, that’s on me!”

This isn’t on him. “Daryl,” How do I reach out to him? How do I breach this gap? I can hear the pain in every word he says, the pain getting clearer every word spoken. 

“And your dad…Maybe…maybe I coulda done something.” His voice cracked and I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist, my cheek resting on the angel wings on the back of his vest. I held him as his body started shaking under mine and he started crying. I want to take this pain away from him.   
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
The sunset and we sat on the porch of the shack, facing across from each other, our backs against rail posts. I made a comment about seeing why my daddy stopped drinking, and that I wished I could keep this feeling forever. This feeling of contentment and that things will be okay again. 

“Mhm. Your lucky you’re a happy drunk.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky. Some people could be real jerks when they drink.” 

“Yeah. I’m a dick. When I’m drunk.” He started telling me this story about Merle’s old dealer. Merle was high and Merle being Merle started talking crap about the show. Merle offended the dealer, something about the tweaker dealers kid, and how Daryl got caught in the middle, threw himself into it to save his brother, and how they managed to get out of it. I couldn’t figure out what this story had to do with anything, until he said, “Ya wanna know what I was before all this? I was just drifting around with Merle,” He kept looking down but he kept lifting his eyes up just a little, just enough to look at me before looking back down at what he was drawing into the porch with his knife. “Doin’ whatever he said we’d be doin’ that day. I was nobody. Nothin’. Some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother.”

“You miss him, don’t you? I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn.” I told him about how overprotective Shawn was, and that it annoyed me, and that I missed my dad. I told him about the stupid dreams I used to have, Maggie and Glenn having a baby and my daddy becoming a grandpa and other stupid dreams, things I wished for, for my dad. Thinking about it made me want to start crying again. I took a sip of moonshine and told him just how stupid I think it was, my dreams. 

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” 

“I wish I could just…change…”

“You did.” 

“Not enough. Not like you. It’s like you were made for how things are now.” 

“Just used to this. Things bein’ ugly, growin’ up in a place like this.” 

He tried to tell me he didn’t get away from his past, the way things were. He asked me to keep reminding him about it, that he did get away from it all. I reminded him of his own words, “You can’t depend on anybody for anything, right? I’ll be gone someday.” 

“Stop,” His head whipped up to look at me. He sounded like he wanted to laugh my words off, but wanted to cry too. Like he couldn’t figure out how he should respond to it. 

“I will. You’re going to be the last man standing.” He gave me this look, this look like he wanted to tell me that I’m nuts, and that I’m wrong. “You are.” 

I waited for him to lift his eyes up and look at me again. “You’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon.” 

“Man, ya ain’t a happy drunk at all.” 

“Yea, I’m happy. I’m just not blind. You gotta stay who you are not who you were. Places like this? You have to put it away.”

“What if you can’t?” 

“You have to. Or it kills you. Here.” I pointed at my heart. 

“You should go inside.”

“We should burn it down.” Burn down his past, burn down the awful memories here and leave the good ones. 

He stood up and I thought he was going to go inside and ignore what I said. He turned to look at me before going inside. “We’re gonna need more booze,” 

I followed him inside and we took the mason jars of moonshine and opened them, spraying the walls and throwing the bottles around, making our way back outside and doing the same thing to the porch. We got a few feet away from the porch and Daryl started digging around in his bag and pulled out a pack of matches and a stack of money, offering the matches to me and asking if I wanted to light them. 

“Hell yeah.” I lit the money that he was holding and watched as he threw it on the porch, and the flames start to rise up. We grabbed our few belongings and moved back some more, and Daryl threw one last bottle of moonshine at the porch. We stopped and faced towards the burning house again and I raised my middle finger up in a salutation to the past. Daryl stared at me until I nudged him and he raised his middle finger up too. I don’t know how long exactly we stood there with our fingers up, but after a bit I reached my free hand over and took his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. 

We started walking and kept our hands laced together until we made camp that night. 

We sat around a campfire we made, him sitting right next to me and I nudged him with my shoulder. “I can’t believe I kissed you first.” 

“Ya didn’t kiss me first. I kissed ya first.” His voice was incredulous 

What the heck is he on? “I was the one to move and kiss you first when you were bein’ a jerk.”

“Nah, I was provin’ a point ta myself, proving I wasn’t scared of nothin.”


End file.
